


undertow

by octothorpetopus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Caring Danny "Danno" Williams, First Aid, First Kiss, Humor, Hurt Steve McGarrett, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Steve McGarrett, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: Danny and Steve are always there for one another, in the most unexpected moments and the most unexpected ways.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	undertow

There is a light setting over the ocean and Steve is sitting in his kitchen, dripping blood on the floor.

To be more specific, he is sitting on the counter, wearing the jeans he wears to work on his car, with a first aid kit beside him. His right arm is hanging loosely at his side, and his left is attempting to pour alcohol on a cotton ball and doing a rather unsatisfactory job. The blood is coming from a gash on his limp arm, which hurts only about half as much as the enormous purple bruises blossoming on his chest and back. A Kevlar bruise is a hell of a lot better than a gunshot wound, he supposes, but three of them all at once hurts like a bitch. On top of a good solid beating, he took a bullet to the chest, a couple to the back, and one grazed his arm, but he’s honestly just hoping it’s not deep enough to scar and ruin his tattoo. Also, if it’s that deep, he’ll need stitches, and he’d rather bleed out in his own kitchen than have to go to the hospital.

He is trying to do this himself, as he always does, but his forehead is damp with sweat from the frustration, and he can’t quite see how deep the wound goes, and every time he tries to wipe away the blood, it’s just replaced by more blood.

“I need a beer,” he announces to no one in particular, and pushes himself off the counter with his good arm. There’s a six-pack in the fridge and he cracks one open, wincing at the bitter taste of beer in his dry mouth. 

The front door opens and Steve’s first instinct is towards the gun on the counter. 

“Hey, Steve, where is my-'' Danny. Steve relaxes, rolling his eyes. “Where’s my good jacket?” Danny appears in the kitchen entryway, his back to Steve, looking around the house. “I think I left it here when I-'' Steve clears his throat, and Danny spins around. “There you are. Where’s my-“ He stops cold. His eyes linger on Steve’s bare chest, and Steve feels oddly exposed. Then he realizes that Danny is staring at the bruises. 

“Wh-” Danny points at his arm.

“It’s nothing. Just a graze.” Steve waves him off, but Danny keeps coming forward. A loose strand of hair falls into his face and he brushes it aside without taking his eyes off Steve. 

“I know you got hit, but…”

“I’m fine.”

“You look bad.” Steve smiles, trying to ease the tension. Danny looks concerned, and while flattered, Steve wishes he wouldn’t. It’s easier to be okay with getting hurt when everyone else is okay with it too. 

“You should see the other guy.”

“I did see the other guy, and he beat the shit out of you.”

“Hey, I got a few good licks in.”

“Emphasis on ‘a few’.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You love me.”

“Eat shit.” Danny smiles now too, and it lightens everything a little when the crease between his eyebrows disappears.

“Seriously, babe, we should get you to the hospital.” Steve shakes his head and takes another sip of beer. God, he spent ten years with the SEALs, twenty total in the navy, and his entire life around cops, all men who drink like men, and he still hates the taste of beer. “Steve, now is not the time for your macho bullshit-”

“I’m not going to the hospital, Danno. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, probably ‘cause of the brain damage from getting beaten up so badly.”

“Would you stop being an asshole for ten seconds?” With substantial effort, Steve forces a solemn expression. “I lost my mom for the second time like three weeks ago, I’m not in a good place.” Danny’s face falls.

“I’m sorry. I forgot. Are you… okay?” He can’t help it. He grins.

“I’m just fucking with you.”

“You suck so bad.” Danny pulls back his fist to punch Steve in the arm, then looks at the bloody wound and thinks better of it. “You know, I think if you keep trying to do whatever it is you’re trying to do, you might have to amputate.”

“I’m-” Steve scoffs. This sounds so stupid. “I’m right-handed.” He can see Danny swallow a laugh, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. “Go ahead. Yuk it up. But as soon as I get this arm back—well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, except that you’re not going to like it very much.”

“Whatever you say, Luke Skywalker.”

“Luke Skywalker—did you just reference Star Wars?”

“Well, ‘cause he’s only got one arm.”

“I got it. Nerd,” he adds under his breath. Danny holds out a hand, pointing at Steve’s arm.

“May I?”

“Knock yourself out.” Steve hands over the first-aid kit while Danny examines the wound. His fingers are rough to the touch and cool against Steve’s skin. “How’s it look, doc?”

“Well, you’re not going to die.”

“Yeah, I assumed that.”

“It’s not that deep. Probably won’t need stitches.”

“Probably?”

“You’ll be fine if you’re careful.”

“When have I ever been careful?”

“I will hit you over the head with a large and heavy object and then I will drag your unconscious body to the hospital.” Steve holds up his hands, wincing. Everything hurts, except the few inches on his arm where Danny’s hand still rests.

“Fine. I’ll be careful.” He thinks while Danny digs through the first-aid kit. “What do you need your good jacket for, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“That’s why you came over, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. Rachel and Stan are in Vegas, looking at houses, so I’m taking Grace to some fancy place downtown for dinner.” Danny falls quiet and looks at his feet, the way he always does when someone asks about Grace these days.

“How’s it going? With Grace and Rachel and-”

“It sucks, and it’s never not going to suck, so can we just drop it?” Danny busies himself with the butterfly bandages he is placing on Steve’s arm with surprising gentleness. It is all Steve can do not to push his hands away and pull him into a hug. He has never met anyone less deserving of all this pain than Danny Williams, and if he could do anything to stop it, he would. But, sitting on his kitchen counter with a bleeding arm, he can’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything even if he was in perfect shape. Danny knows that, and that’s why he’s never asked for anything from Steve, not even comfort. In the same way Steve has been tryin fruitlessly for hours to patch up his wounds, Danny has been trying to hold himself together to no avail. His hair falls into his eyes again and this time Steve reaches over with his free hand to push it away. A small comfort, perhaps, but it is all he can do.

“Why won’t you go to the hospital?” Danny asks in a haphazard attempt at conversation.

“I don’t like hospitals.” There is a moment of silence.

“…okay. Is there any specific reason for that, or…?”

“Nope.” Steve looks away and hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Steven McGarrett, are you afraid of doctors?” Even without looking, Steve knows that Danny is grinning. He can hear it. The jackass.

“No.” He’s a bad liar and he knows it and Danny knows it and Danny is not ever going to let this go. “Yes.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re afraid of something.”

“You got me. Doctors. Also, hyenas.”

“Hyenas? You live in Hawaii.”

“The Lion King scarred me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Still, that seems to lighten his mood a little, and that makes Steve feel better, if a little embarrassed nonetheless. He’ll take the embarrassment, though, if he can keep Danny’s hands on him. There is an unexpected intimacy to allowing another person to patch him up, especially when that person is Danny. He stands with his hips braced against the counter and one of Steve’s legs to either side of him. Aside from the occasional hug, Steve doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close to one another. And, he has to admit, he doesn’t mind it at all. 

“You’re gonna need to refrain from punching anyone for a few days, ‘kay?” Danny’s voice is low and gravelly and hardly six inches from Steve’s ear. Despite living on the island for almost four years, his accent has yet to fade. 

“I’ll try my best.”

“You know, you’re joking, but I’m serious.” Danny wags a finger like a stern mother. “No punching.”

“As I recall, punching people is your thing. You almost broke my nose the day we met.”

“Yeah, after you almost broke my wrist.”

“I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, so I did, but in my defense, you were annoying the shit out of me.”

“And if I’d have sued you, is that what you would have told the judge?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“What’s the statute of limitations on assault and battery again?” Danny turns to leave and Steve grabs his wrist. He’s not sure why he’s doing that, exactly. It’s not like Danny is actually leaving, he’s just making a point of being as irritating as possible. The thing is, Steve doesn’t feel that irritated. He just feels Danny’s heartbeat in his wrist. It is unbelievably fast, almost hummingbird-esque. 

“What, you’re not going to kiss it better?” Stece tries to suppress his smile but fails. It’s so much better when he can make jokes in total deadpan, but there’s something about Danny that makes it impossible not to smile. Danny rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears turn red, which only makes Steve smile bigger.

Danny plays along and quickly pecks the bandages on Steve’s upper arm. His lips are warm and his bristly five-o’clock shadow scratches Steve’s skin.

“That better?”

“Yeah. It’s better,” Steve says.

“Good. You’re ridiculous.” Danny finds a roll of gauze in the first aid kit. “Hold out your arm.” Steve obliges, and he’s annoyed with himself for how willing he is to be bossed around right now. Once the bandages are thoroughly wrapped in gauze, Danny nods.

“I think my work here is done.” He checks his watch. “I’ve got an hour before I gotta pick up Grace. Should be enough time to run home and find another jacket.” Something clicks in Steve and he has to physically restrain himself from grabbing Danny’s wrist again. Instead, he clears his throat and hops off the counter.

“…you want a beer?” he asks after a moment. It comes out of nowhere. And so does the ‘yes’ that Danny responds with. While Steve digs through the refrigerator for another beer, Danny finds a dishcloth and fills it with ice from the freezer.

“For your bruises,” he explains. 

“Aw, you do care.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I’m kidding!” Danny follows him out the back door and down to the beach, still holding the ice. There are two chairs in the sand, but Steve forgoes furniture and falls into the sand with a low groan. Those bruises fucking  _ hurt.  _

Danny lowers himself to sit next to Steve. He trades the ice for a beer. Steve tries to hold up the dishcloth to his chest, but a stab of pain in his arm forces him to let go. The ice thumps into the sand, spilling a few cubes. 

“I-” he sighs. Danny’s already been here for longer than he meant to be, he’s already patched Steve up, and he doesn’t need to do any more to help. Still, the concern clearly written on his face trumps any objections Steve may have to asking for help. “I can’t. Can you-?” Danny is already moving before he can finish the question. He gathers up the remaining ice with the hand closest to Steve and presses it to Steve’s chest, shifting his weight to one hip to get an easier angle. Any pressure on the bruises hurts, but Danny has a gentle touch, and before long the roaring pain dulls to a low thud.

“You could be a nurse. You know, if you ever got tired of being a cop.” Danny smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m not interested in getting puked on or bled on or having anyone else’s bodily fluids anywhere near my general vicinity.”

“You’ve got a little bit of my blood on your hand.” He grimaces and hurriedly wipes it away. 

“Yeah, well. You’re not really ‘anyone else’, are you?” Now what does that mean?

“Where’d you even learn to do that?”

“What, first aid? It’s stupid.”

“What?”

“Remember when you broke your arm a couple years ago?”

“Of course.”

“Well, after I watched you get airlifted out of there with a stick duct-taped to your arm as a splint, I figured I oughta learn at least a little first aid. So nothing like that ever happens to you or Gracie or anyone else again while I’m there and I can’t do anything.”

“Oh my god. That’s adorable.”

“I’ll kill you, I swear to god I will.”

“I’m serious! It’s cute that you want to look out for people like that.”

“It is not ‘cute.’ I am a 35-year-old man, I should know how to bandage a cut.”

“Well, here’s to finally getting around to learning.” Steve holds out his can and after a moment, Danny reluctantly taps his against it. For a long few moments, they don’t talk, they just stare out at the ocean and the sun setting over it. 

“You know, it’s shit like this that makes me think Hawaii doesn’t suck as much as I thought.”

“It can’t suck that bad if you’re fighting Rachel this hard to stay here.” Danny bites his lip. “Sorry. I was just thinking and it slipped out. We don’t have to talk about Rachel if-”

“It’s just weird to think that Rach and I used to be a team in everything,” Danny interrupts. “I mean, everything. We were married and we raised Grace together and we actually used to love each other, believe it or not. It’s weird to not be on a team like that anymore.”

“You’ve still got a team.” Steve grimaces through the pain and places his bad hand on top of Danny’s, the one holding the ice to his chest. “You have Chin and Kono and Kamekona and, well, me. We’re all here for you and Grace. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you like this place enough to stay.” Personally, Steve can’t imagine ever wanting to live anywhere else. They don’t have sunsets like this in New Jersey, after all. But he doesn’t say that.

“Yeah, well… it’s hard not to love it here when you’ve got views like this.” Steve glances over, expecting to see Danny staring out at the ocean and the sunset that is steadily beginning to disappear under a dark cloud cover. Instead, he is looking right at Steve. Fuck. 

“I’m glad you’re staying,” is all Steve seems to be capable of saying. 

“So am I,” Danny replies, and that is when he kisses Steve. He isn’t hesitant about it either, he really goes all in—noses crushing against one another, teeth scraping Steve’s lower lip, pushing against him like this is something he needs. And Steve, like a surfer caught in a riptide, doesn’t fight it. Hell, why should he? It’s been years since he’s been kissed like this, if he’s ever been kissed like this at all. It’s all he can do not to grab a fistful of Danny’s shirt and tear it off. He’s pretty sure that Danny would kill him if he ripped his shirt, though, so he settles for digging his hands into Danny’s hair, ignoring the shooting pain in his arm. 

When Danny tosses aside the ice and his beer and swings a leg over Steve’s hips so that he’s sitting on top of him, Steve is pretty sure he’s going to pass out. Is this what he’s been missing by never settling down with anyone all these years? There have been men and women here and there, although Steve’s never asked for more or wanted more than sex from them. And there’s Cath, of course, who he always seems to come back to, but there is some fundamental difference between kissing Cath and kissing Danny. Whatever it is, it escapes Steve as Danny pushes him flat on his back, leaning down on top of him, careful not to put his weight on Steve’s chest. Steve is drunk off Danny’s lips, and he thinks he doesn’t mind the taste of beer so long as it’s on Danny’s breath. If he didn’t have a reason to keep Danny in Hawaii, he has one now.

Something rings faintly, drowned out by the crashing ocean waves.

“Danny-” Steve mutters. “Your phone.” Danny doesn’t seem to hear, and if he does, he really doesn’t care. Steve fishes Danny’s phone out of his pocket without disentangling his other hand from Danny’s hair. He answers the phone, wrenching his face to the side so that Danny’s lips streak across his cheek. “Hello?”

_ “Uncle Steve?”  _ He stifles a laugh while Danny presses kisses across his jawline.

“Hey, Gracie.” At his daughter’s name, Danny’s head pops up.

“Gimme that,” he hisses and swipes for the phone, but Steve holds it just out of reach, turning it to speakerphone.

_ “Uncle Steve? Is my dad there?” _

“Yeah, kiddo, he’s here.” Danny shoots him an  _ I’m going to kill you  _ glance.

“Hey, baby. I just had to stop by Uncle Steve’s to get my jacket for tonight.” Steve can’t help it. He starts to laugh. Danny, seemingly forgetting about his injuries, smacks his chest.

“Ow, fuck!”

_ “Language, Uncle Steve.” _

“Yeah,  _ language,  _ Steven.” But Danny is stifling a laugh too. “Listen, Gracie, I’ll be home in twenty, but I gotta go, alright? Danno loves you.”

_ “Okay. Bye, Danno.”  _ Steve hangs up the phone.

“You, my friend, are a jackass.” 

“You have to admit that was funny.”

“I do not.”

“You love me.”

“Shut up.” Steve replaces the phone in Danny’s pocket. This is pretty much the best he’s felt in years. Between his mom dying, his dad dying, his mom not being dead, Malia dying, and now everything with Danny and Rachel, it has been hard to think that things could get worse. This, though, makes it all seem so very much better. “I gotta go,” Danny groans.

“Fine.” Steve props himself up on his elbows and kisses him again. “Go.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to pick up Grace.”

“Yes. I do. Just-“ Overhead, thunder crashes, and the clouds that had rolled in while they were ‘occupied’ (so to speak) opened up, pouring rain down on the both of them. “Okay. I really have to go now.”

“Go.” Danny sits up and un-straddles Steve’s hips.

“I’m going,” he says, and kisses the top of Steve’s head as he stands

“I’ll see you.” Steve smacks his ass as Danny passes by.

“You’re insane!” Danny calls over his shoulder, running to escape from the rain that has already soaked him from head to toe.

“And you love me anyway!” Steve replies. He slicks his wet hair out of his face, grinning like an idiot. There’s sand in his hair, and his bandages are soaking wet, but he hasn’t been happier since… he can’t remember. 

The rain that pours down is cool and eases a little of the pain, not that he can find it in himself to be in pain right now. He feels utterly invincible, and he didn’t even have to do anything to get here except offer Danny a beer. If he’d known that was all he had to do, he would have done it months ago.

The light has set over the ocean and Steve is lying in wet sand, grinning like an idiot. The rain let up hours ago, but he has no inclination to move. Not when he’s enjoying himself right here, wet jeans and bruised chest and all. Then he hears the faint sound of a phone ringing—his landline. Without a doubt, he knows it’ll be Danny on the other line, and that is enough to get him on his feet in an instant and running back towards the house. He wipes his sandy feet on the rug and as he picks up the phone, sits on the counter, looking out the window to the backyard, where it is beginning to rain again. He’s got Hawaii and he’s got Danny, and what more could he possibly need?


End file.
